


Numbers

by Johnlockforthewin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, Holocaust, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nobody dies in the story, Shock, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Talk about death, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 13:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockforthewin/pseuds/Johnlockforthewin
Summary: Steve learns that the internet has all the information he wants, and some that he doesn't.Steve learns the death toll from WWII.





	Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, written on little sleep and late at night, one-shot.

 

 

Natasha walks into the common area of Avengers Tower, coffee on her mind. She notices Steve sitting at the bar with a mug of it in front of him, although no steam rises from it, and she estimates he's been there for quite a while now.    
  
Slowing her stride, letting her boots hit the ground with more force, Steve tilts his head slightly in her direction. She needn't have bothered making more noise, not with his super soldier hearing, but she thinks he'll appreciate the gesture.    
  
She doesn't acknowledge him, but she's not ignoring him. He'll speak when he's ready; he usually does.    
  
Steve's presence hasn't taken her mind off coffee, of which there is some left in the carafe from where Steve made it earlier. Much earlier, she notes with a sniff. She pours it down the drain, rinsing and swirling, and starts up a new pot with fresh grounds.    
  


With the high tech Stark made coffee machine gurgling away, Natasha sits next to Steve at the bar, one seat between them. He may not need it, but she likes to keep her distance when talking about things that make her feel the way Steve looks. 

 

She starts up a game of Angry Birds. Clint showed it to her a few years ago and she's found that she can let out her micro-agressions on those pigs. 

 

After several minutes, the coffee maker lets out it's last few noises, signalling that the coffee is ready. 

She closes out her game and gets up to go about getting her drink. 

 

Throughout the quiet clinking of her mug (a gift from Tony, little spiders all over it) against the carafe, Steve has started tapping his fingers. He's ready to talk now. 

 

She collects her mug returns to her chair. 

 

“...So,” he starts, after a moment. He stops, probably uncomfortable with having been the one to break the silence. 

 

She raises her eyebrows to him.  _ I'm listening. _

 

He takes a breath and continues. “So, people don't all love Captain America.” 

 

She expects more, because that can't be what's upsetting him, but silence falls again. 

 

“I thought you'd be used to that by now,” she says, blunt as always. There's no need to filtre herself around him; he knows her. 

 

He cracks a smile. “You'd think. But it's not that. I know how the world works and I know that not everyone is going to like something.” He glances at her, but his eyes dart quickly back to his mug. “I've gotten pretty good at using the internet. Googling stuff, you know?” 

 

At her nod, he goes on, “I was on the phone with Sam last night, and we're talking and he mentioned something about how you're never supposed to Google yourself.” 

 

“So you did.” 

 

“So I did,” he chuckles. “Never been that great at doing what I was told. Anyway, I did, and I found some things.” He goes quiet again. 

 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Natasha cracks a grin and asks, “Did you find fanfiction? I know you and Stark are pretty popular.” 

 

His ears turn red, but to his credit, his face doesn't betray him. 

 

“I found a variety of things,” he says, sounding defensive. 

 

She doesn't say anything else, hoping for him to continue. 

 

“What I found, one of the things, was a, uh, 'Captain America hates America’ thing.” 

 

She can hear the quotations around the title in his voice. 

 

“And you're right, I'm used to some people hating Captain America, but this whole thing was backed up with facts and numbers.” 

 

“What kind of numbers were they using to support an opinion? It doesn't work like that,” she states. She knows he hasn't mentioned what's actually bothering him yet. 

 

“Natasha. These numbers were... huge. Numbers about the dead count from the war, from the Holocaust.” He looks stricken, and she finally understands. 

 

He grew up during the war, and “died" before it ended. There's no way he'd have known the body count until it was brought up. 

 

“Millions. Millions of people Nat.” He's looking right at her now and she lets her face show the sympathy she's feeling. 

 

“Six million Jews, 17 million people total, died, just in the Holocaust. 416,800 US military personnel, total of 50  _ mill-hion _ \--” his voice cracks and he stops, staring at her with horrified eyes. 

 

She knows the numbers, right down to the last digit, for each country. She knows what the war did to people, but she grew up with it. She can't imagine learning the death toll of that amount from something she was made to stop. The feeling of failure she's familiar with, she can see it in his eyes, in the slump of his shoulders. The line of his mouth is tense and carefully not frowning. She can feel the guilt radiating from him, mixed with shame. 

 

He goes back to staring at his mug, eyes wet with unshed tears. She doesn't have anything to say, so she doesn't. Her coffee has gone cold now too, half empty. 

 

Steve stands up, takes a breath. He looks towards her but not at her and says, “Thanks.” 

 

She thinks he actually means it. 

  
  
  



End file.
